


Sing the Moon

by Gelsey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelsey/pseuds/Gelsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walden Macnair wants a pet werewolf, huh?  I’ll show him pet werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing the Moon

I’m not sure which of us find the collar about the neck more humiliating—me, the person, or me, the wolf.

We’re not as far apart as you’d think. I rather like my wolf. She isn’t all bloodlust like you might suspect. Though I’d rather like to harness that bloodlust just about now.

Instead, I smile sharply at my captor as he slides a finger under the collar. He sees the teeth and knows the predator behind them. He doesn’t flinch. In fact, he smiles and leans closer as if daring me to bite that nose right off his face.

“That’s my good girl,” Walden Macnair coos into my face.

I smile wider instead of grimacing at his breath, but instead of snapping at him I lunge forward suddenly, butting my head against his nose.

It crunches and bleeds spectacularly. Even the beating I receive can’t lessen my satisfaction—and really, my wolf is rather pleased as well. Turns out I have her bloodlust thing well in hand.

***

My bruises fade faster than regular people’s. A perk of being a werewolf, if you will. But they’re not completely gone by the time he mounts me as if I’m some half-breed cur-bitch.

I knew it was coming, of course. You don’t get chained and collared mostly naked and not know what’s coming. That doesn’t mean I’m prepared for the rage and shame.

Every thrust gives me more hatred. Every time I do something to please him to keep the blows at bay makes me want to cry.

I howl instead. It seems to please him.

***

The new moon is a physical ache in my middle that has nothing to do with my broken ribs or the way the collar is loose on my neck from weight loss.

My wolf is quiescent, and I miss her. Once, I never thought it would happen. But in this place, where I get mistreated because of her, I rely on her to keep me strong. She is more human than I am these days.

Macnair comes in the door, already shucking his clothes. I sit in my place. He’s trusted me to do so for three days, since the leash disappeared. The chains have been gone for longer.

He pauses in his habitual manner and pats my head. I lean into his hand with a whimper. “Good girl,” he says, rubbing his hand down my neck, where it soothes stiff muscles, then down to fondle a breast. “I’ll love you… if you don’t make me stop. I’ll keep loving you, if you don’t.”

I don’t know if it’s a warning, a threat, a plea or something else just as twisted as my life. So instead of responding, I do nothing, retreating to that empty spot left by the new moon.

***

The knife glints in the light of the waxing moon. It rests within reach of where I lay curled on the end of Macnair’s bed.

He put it there to mock me. Or tempt me. It’s doing both.

I want to reach for it, but I know the handle and blade are both silver.

_Make me stop._

He’s testing me, but I don’t know why. I think it’s a twisted mind-game.

The moon shines silver. The blade shines silver.

His eyes shine silver as they open and watch me.

Walden Macnair, what are you doing?

I’ll make it stop. The wolf whines approval, and I give it voice before closing my eyes. 

I just don’t think it’ll be in the way he wants.

***

The moon sings to me, and I sing back. I am the wolf, and she is me.

We hush at a gesture from our captor. “Good girl,” he says and pats my head. I lean into the touch.

He watches, and I wait at his feet. Patient. Relaxed.

Perhaps it’s dishonorable, but I wait until he’s asleep before I bite his crotch.

He screams, and we sing, my monster and I.

He doesn’t stop his singing until I tear out his throat.

That, I do when I turn human the next morning.

My wolf is much nicer than me, now.

But we’re both much nicer than him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Death Eater Drabs a long time ago.


End file.
